West Indian Iced Tea

I first put an X beside West Indian Iced Tea (meaning I will never make it again), thinking "bland, sharp, tastes too much of mint and rum" but now after having consumed it while listening to Mozart on my cushiony noise-canceling headphones, I have changed my mind.

"Symphony No. 25: Allegro con brio" has got to be the best thing Mozart ever wrote.

Well, that's all folks.

Actually, no, let me tell you briefly about my new obsession: "Mad Men", or more specifically, Donald Draper. He is violent, rude, secretive, seductive, impossibly cool, and watching him makes me want to smoke and drink all day long and create a scandalous second life. Unfortunately, though, his world no longer exists, and also, I am a woman. Patrick and I have been plowing through Season 1 on DVD, borrowed from the library; it's our new thing to do together. I love that about life - when everything seems boring, finished, spent, suddenly someone like Donald Draper comes along - boom, a new temptation.

I made several very unpalatable cocktails in the past week as well: Sweet Genie, Alexander's Sister (hardly worth mentioning), and an Opal Martini, containing gin and creme de menthe and light cream and muddled mint. Pat said it tasted like Maalox. Mmm, Maalox that causes gastritis - definitely won't be going there again. The Kir Royale is very good, though, just creme de cassis and champagne, and I had a few, and will be purchasing champagne again in future, and having a few more!

An office with a side table lined with drinks, ashtrays on every horizontal surface, and an ignorance of cigarette smoke's carcinogenic effects... that's what I'm wishing for today. Oh yes, and very long lunch breaks. And a commute to the city. And perfect beauty and charisma and an invented past, the green light at the end of the dock, Daisy.